the hag's swamp
When he wakes up, Orochimaru is met with the blackness of the early morning that tells him dawn is still a good ways away.
His heart races uncomfortably, his mind racing with a million thoughts at once.
Great. So he’s still exhausted, but his anxiety gnaws at him, letting him know that going back to sleep is out of the question.
He gets up and leaves his tent and decides that, if he can’t sleep, pacing around camp to get some of his nervous energy out is the next best option.
The fire is nothing but embers now, spewing out wisps of thick smoke and not offering much in the way of warmth anymore.
Wrapping his arms around himself, Orochimaru wanders around, glaring at each of their companions that are still fast asleep.
Nothing but blissful lumps of meat, seemingly without a care in the world.
As he passes by Karlach, a wave of warmth comes over him that makes him stop dead in his tracks, savoring the reprieve from the cold.
(Maybe the company isn’t all bad- having someone with a built-in heater seems to have its advantages.)
He could stay rooted to the spot forever and be happy, not wanting to stray back out into the frigid night.
But he knows that won’t happen.
A sharp, frightened whimper breaks him out of his thoughts, and his eyes dart around to find the source.
Astarion whimpers, twitching in his sleep, grabbing at his threadbare blanket and drawing it around himself like a shield.
Ah. the restless sleep of a haunted mind- he’s well acquainted with that.
Through the incoherent babbling, Orochimaru can hear the occasional word- mostly no, but also I’m sorry and other mangled apologies to someone he can’t see.
He should probably go over and wake him from the nightmare, but a combination of morbid curiosity and not wanting to exit his little warm sphere gives him pause, his bones aching from the cold.
He wills his parasite to reach out to Astarion’s, and it obeys without complaint. With that, he dives into whatever is haunting him in his dreams.
The forest is deep and impossibly dark, and he stumbles around blindly, throat tight and chest aching.
He’s being watched, hunted- but he can’t see what- or who- it is.
“Who’s there?”
His words echo back to him a thousandfold, only adding to his rising panic.
There’s a laugh. A cold, hollow laugh that pierces his heart with an indescribable, paralyzing terror.
“Oh, dear boy- have you forgotten the rules already?”
That voice sounds familiar- it’s the one he heard the first time he was accidentally thrown into his companion’s mind.
There are hands all over him, tearing at his clothes, groping at his flesh, splitting his body in two as bile lurches in his throat.
Everything goes totally black, and there’s a flash of breathtaking pain across his back.
“Tell me, boy- what are the rules?”
A sob tears out of his (Astarion’s) throat, barely able to speak.
“First- first I will-”
“Speak up, boy. You’re mumbling.”
More pain. Stars in his vision through the blackness.
“First- I will not drink the blood of thinking creatures.”
There’s a searing agony in his hands, and he feels his fingernails separating from his flesh.
“The second rule?”
“I-I will not leave your side unless directed.”
There’s a dim torchlight now, and he’s laying face-down on a cold stone floor. Somehow, even the faintest light is blinding.
A strangled scream escapes him as this man- Cazador, certainly- demands the third rule.
“I will o-obey you in all things.”
“And the final rule?”
God, the smugness, the ice cold disdain in that voice sends a shiver down his spine.
He opens his mouth, but cannot force the words out.
There’s a sharp pain on his back as his master stomps down on it, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling his head at an awful angle.
“Thou shalt remember,” Cazador hisses, “ that thou art mine.”
A horrible, hollow feeling of surrender as he nods.
“ Say it, boy.”
“I am yours.”
Another cold laugh. Icy hands on his body, pulling his bloodied, battered carcass upright.
“There you go. Isn’t it so much easier when you cooperate?”
Now there are hands all over him, as a few of his master’s servants pretty him up again, setting his clothes and his hair just so before he’s thrown out into the streets of Baldur’s Gate once more, to seek prey to sate his master's ravenous appetite.
As if nothing happened. As if nothing is wrong.
He feels filthy, like some diseased thing the others can only look at with pity.
He wants to throw up. He wants to die. He wants to run away.
But he doesn't dare to allow himself.
Orochimaru jerks back to reality, severing the connection between their minds.
He feels…unclean for prying, curiosity or not.
What he’d see was something personal. Something he shouldn’t have seen. What must have been one of the worst times of his life, come back to haunt him in his sleep.
He’ll avoid asking the man about it in the morning, to avoid wounding his fragile pride.
For now, he braves the chill to make his way over, kneeling down to shake him out of his torment.
When he does, by the dying remnants of the fire, he spies something peculiar about the scars on the side of the man’s neck.
He’d thought there were only a twin pair of puncture wounds, but now that he’s so close to him, he’s able to see a faint ring connecting the puncture marks- imprints of Cazador’s teeth, perfectly preserved in the pallid flesh of his victim forever.
(How viciously must he have been bitten to leave a mark like that?)
Enough wondering. He can’t endure another moment of that pitiful, half-coherent begging. He grabs the man’s shoulder and gives it a shake.
“Wake up.” he says- not loudly, just enough to rouse him.
Astarion wakes up with a jolt and a gasp, red eyes alight with fear before he realizes where he is.
“What-”
“You were making a racket. Rough night?”
Astarion glares daggers at him.
“...Something like that. Why do you care?”
“Who said that I did? You were making noise and it was bothersome.”
Funnily enough, that seems to give Astarion some kind of comfort, being able to think he’s not being pitied.
“Are you expecting me to apologize?”
“Not particularly. I just figured you’d appreciate the wake up call.”
Astarion rolls his eyes, straightening himself out with an irritated huff.
“Say, aren’t we missing someone?” he asks, after gaining enough consciousness back to look around.
“Hm?”
“That skinny one who looks about two seconds away from bursting into tears.”
Ah, him.
“Oh, he must be having a hard time sleeping, too.”
“You sound pretty sure of that.”
“Well, they say there’s no rest for the wicked.” Orochimaru answers, with a shrug.
“Wicked? He doesn’t strike me as the wicked type.”
“You would think that. He would beg to differ.”
“Listen, you can’t keep teasing me with this and not tell me the details,” Astarion whines. “What did he do that was so awful?”
“If I told you, he would end me in some creative way I can’t even fathom at the moment. Bother him about it if you’re really that curious.”
“You’re no fun.”
As if summoned by their gossip, Itachi emerges from the trees, rubbing his eyes blearily.
“Ah, speak of the devil,” Astarion giggles. “Where have you been at this time of night?”
Itachi glares at Astarion with as much vitriol as he can muster.
“That’s not your business.”
Astarion makes a show of looking offended, muttering something and excusing himself so he can pretend to go back to sleep.
In the darkness, Orochimaru can still make out the remnants of a nasty nosebleed on Itachi’s face, which he’s still trying to wipe away but not entirely succeeding.
He doesn’t say anything about his predicament, but he doesn’t have to- Orochimaru already knows. And he knows it has nothing to do with the uninvited guests in their heads.
“I hope this problem of yours won’t be causing us any trouble.”
Orochimaru doesn’t have to elaborate on that, either. Itachi knows full well.
“I’m fine,” Itachi snaps back, though the slight hitch in his breath and the hint of red on his teeth indicate that he’s anything but. “I’m going back to sleep.”
“Suit yourself.”
So, Itachi is still as stubborn and tight-lipped as he’s ever been. At least they’ve got something familiar.
Maybe he should try to get some more rest before dawn, as well. But as he returns to his bed roll and crawls under the blankets, the images shared through their unwelcome parasites simply won’t leave his mind.
The phantom sensations of blades and burns and unwelcome caresses still ghost across his skin, raising the hairs on the back of his neck and making him shiver.
Dawn can’t come quickly enough.
“I think she said she lived down this way,” Hidan mutters, unable to make head nor tail of the scenery around them.
“If you’re sure…” Karlach mutters.
“Sure I’m sure,” Hidan laughs, though he’s not really that sure.
“We know you have her! Where is she?!”
“I swear to the gods, I’ve not seen hide nor hair of yer poor sister!” the old woman declares.
“Just tell us where she is, please !” the older brother declares.
“Hey, hey, what the fuck is goin’ on here?!”
Hidan gets in the middle of the scuffle, looking from Ethel to the two men.
“Where do you assholes get off hasslin’ an old lady?!” he demands, indignant.
“She isn’t just some old lady!” the younger man insists. “She’s a hag, you can’t trust her-”
“Hey, I know this lady, I’ll decide whether or not I wanna trust her.”
Both men look at each other, then panic.
“Sweetie, be careful!” Ethel begs him.
“He’s with the hag!” the older one declares. “Don’t just stand there-”
Both men charge at Hidan, brandishing their impromptu weapons.
Before either Wyll or Karlach can even move, Hidan draws a dagger and slits the older brother’s throat, then the younger. They drop to the ground, gurgling and writhing as they gasp out their last.
“What the actual hell-” Hidan growls, “I didn’t even do anything…”
“Oh my stars-” Ethel declares, putting a hand over her heart as Wyll and Karlach approach to make sure neither she nor Hidan are hurt. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen-”
“What the fuck was that about?” Hidan asks, frowning. “Sounded like a pretty brutal argument.”
“Those poor boys were looking for Mayrina- a girl who’s been staying with me. I hate to lie, but she made me swear not to tell anyone where she was! And my word is my bond!”
Hidan frowns, looking down at the corpses at his feet.
“Well that sucks for them.”
Ethel gives him a quick glance over to make sure he isn’t hurt.
“Well I’m glad you’re alright,” Wyll says. “Sorry about the trouble.”
Ethel smiles, reaching out and pinching his cheek with a smile.
“Oh, you are a dear. Come on down to my teahouse as soon as you can- I’d like to thank ye properly.”
With that, she disappears in a puff of smoke and a sparkle of light.
“What the-”
“Now what on earth is going on here?” Astarion asks, as the rest of the group catches up with them. “Why the corpses?”
“Ah, nothin’ to worry about,” Karlach says, after a bit of an awkward pause. “Guys tryin’ to pick a fight they couldn’t win.”
Wyll looks uncomfortable, but nods along and lets the matter rest there.
“Enough hangin’ around,” Hidan says, sighing. “Let’s go see if Ethel can deworm us.”
“Are you sure about this?” Karlach asks him, squinting.
“Yeah! That Ethel lady seems a bit uh-”
Hidan twirls his finger by the side of his head to indicate insanity.
“-But she said she wanted to help, and to be honest our odds are as good with her as anyone.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Course I’m fuckin’ sure.”
Hidan straightens himself up, surveying the peaceful meadow in front of them.
A few sheep bounce about happily, bleating and going about their merry way.
Wyll strikes out into the meadow before Hidan grabs his shoulder to keep him back.
“Hold up for a second.”
“Huh?”
“Something feels weird…”
Hidan has the feeling that something is watching them, but he can’t for the life of him figure out why, and that freaks him out more than anything.
Karlach laughs.
“What do you mean? You scared of some sheep?”
“It isn’t the fuckin’ sheep you stupid-”
Hidan’s violet eyes dart around, trying to figure out what’s so off.
Then, as if waking from a dream, the pretty landscape falls away, revealing a putrid swamp, stinking and seemingly endless.
“Ah,” Wyll mutters. “An illusion.”
“How did you know?!” Karlach asks, in awe.
“I didn’t?” Hidan replies. “It just didn’t feel right.”
“Well, roll up your sleeves, I guess,” Wyll says. “No time to waste.”
Itachi surveys the surroundings, then glances at Gale.
“Maybe there’s a bridge or something over the muck…?”
“I doubt it. Best to just charge through.” Gale says, clapping his hands together and stepping fearlessly into the gloop.
And so they do.
“Ugh, disgusting,” Astarion groans as they tread through the muck, pulling an unflattering face as he pulls his foot out of a thick patch of slime.
“I’ve been in less pleasant places,” Orochimaru laughs.
“Oh, so have I,” Astarion reassures him. “But they at least smell better than here.”
A strange, pinkish colored frog hops along, but neither of them pays it much attention. Neither do they pay much attention to the diminutive creatures with little red hats that wander around aimlessly.
Through the fetid stink of the swamp, another smell makes its way through, metallic and overpowering.
“Ironvine?” Astarion asks. “Interesting…”
“What’s ironvine?”
“Usually, it’s burned to keep nasty creatures away. But it doesn’t seem like there’s much more than frogs or the odd redcap around, and they seem alright enough.”
“Hello there?” a strange voice calls out, getting their attention.
They follow the noise until they see a man- indeed burning some strange looking vines.
The man has straw-blond hair and a beard to match, along with a friendly smile that makes his brown eyes twinkle.
“Ah, strangers- forgive the aroma, but I’ve bumped into some nasty creatures I’d rather not get to know up close.”
He reaches out a hand in greeting, which Orochimaru ignores.
"My name is Gandrel. Pleased to make your acquaintance- the life of a monster hunter doesn't grant me the pleasure often."
“You’re a monster hunter?” Astarion sneers. “And here I thought all your people were vagrant cutthroats.”
Orochimaru cocks his head in confusion, but fortunately the other man answers his question before he needs to ask it.
“And more,” he laughs. “We steal your chickens, poison your crops, seduce your daughters and curse your bloodlines.”
He shrugs, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.
“If only I had half the power settled people think we possess. Alas, I am a simple wanderer.”
Orochimaru puts his hands on his hips and cocks his head.
“And what would a monster hunter be here hunting?"
“Oh, something terrifying, no doubt,” Astarion laughs. “So what is it? Dragon? Cyclops? Kobold?”
Gandrel shakes his head and smiles.
“Nothing quite that exciting, I’m afraid. Actually, I’m looking for a vampire spawn.”
Were Astarion not already so pale, he probably would be after that announcement.
Gandrel doesn’t seem to notice, and keeps talking.
“His name is Astarion- but I’m afraid he’s gone to ground. I only hope the hag of this land can help me flush him out. If I can afford her blood price, that is.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Orochimaru sees Astarion take a wary step backward, looking around like a cornered animal trying to find somewhere to hide. His fingers twitch around the handle of his dagger, every muscle fiber alight with fear.
Understandably so. Orochimaru surveys this stranger and tries to decide the best course of action.
“Only a spawn? Are you sure he’s that dangerous, then?”
It’s half teasing to wound Astarion’s brittle ego, but half to try to probe for more information from this interloper.
“Oh I bet even a spawn could rip your throat out if the mood struck them,” Astarion hisses.
“He’s right, I’m afraid,” Gandrel says mournfully. “They’re only weak compared to their masters. During the day, they aren't so tough, but at night, when they hunt- you'll never find a more deadly quarry."
“So you’re out here hunting one all on your own? To do what, exactly? Kill him?”
“No. I’ve got orders to bring him back alive. My people are waiting for me back in the city- that’s where I’ll be taking him.”
“Well,” Astarion says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “we can’t let such a danger just wander around free, can we?”
He eyes Orochimaru as he says this, and his intent is crystal clear.
He’s terrified. Whatever else they do, it’s clear that Astarion does not want this man to live. There’s a silent plea in his eyes, begging for permission to do what he feels needs to be done.
“...I couldn’t agree more,” Orochimaru says, with a sickly sweet smile.
Gandrel and Astarion both light up in response, though for very, very different reasons.
Orochimaru straightens up and keeps talking, so that the man doesn’t notice Astarion creeping closer.
“It just so happens that I think I know exactly who you’re looking for.”
“Do you, now? I won’t begrudge any help I can get, if you don’t mind-”
“Oh, we’re more than happy to help,” Astarion purrs, with a flash of that winning smile of his.
Gandrel doesn’t even notice the danger lurking in that smile.
“You know,” Astarion says, still smiling. “I’ve had a run-in with your people before.”
Gandrel’s smile falters the tiniest bit.
“Oh? Is that so?”
“It is. And let me tell you-”
In a flash, nearly too quick to see and far too quick for Gandrel to react, Astarion buries his dagger firmly in the man’s eye.
The man howls in pain and shocked betrayal, which quickly dies off to a pained gurgling sound.
“...It wasn’t a good experience.”
He yanks the knife out with a great relish, allowing the man’s body to fall limp into the mud.
Gandrel’s body twitches a few times as the last sparks of life leave him, before going slack and still.
“Satisfied?” Orochimaru asks.
“Not quite,” Astarion says, pulling out a rag to wipe his dagger clean. “But I feel better, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Orochimaru looks over the fresh corpse, wondering if perhaps they should be trying harder to keep their body count down.
“I hope we don’t end up regretting killing him.”
“Oh darling, he was only a Gur. Nobody will miss him, trust me on that.”
Astarion spits the words out with such contempt it makes Orochimaru shiver.
Before Orochimaru can even ask, he volunteers the information he was pondering as if he’d read his mind.
“It was a group of Gur that attacked me in Baldur’s Gate. The night Cazador found me.”
“Is that so? What gripe did they have with you?”
Astarion rolls his eyes.
“They weren’t happy with a ruling I passed down as magistrate- I can’t even remember what it was, anymore. They beat me to death’s doorstep before Cazador chased them off, and offered to save me.”
“...Save you by turning you into a slave?”
“Well-” Astarion gripes, with a broad gesture of annoyance, “he didn’t exactly mention the slave clause at the time. He offered me eternity- given my choices were either that or bleed to death in the street- I took him up on the offer.”
He tries to make it sound like he doesn’t care about what happened, but his heart really isn’t in his performance.
"It wasn't until later that I realized how long eternity would be."
Orochimaru nods in understanding.
“I suppose there wasn’t much else you could have done. But what does that have to do with our unfortunate friend?”
“Most Gur make their livings as hired thugs. And only Cazador would know to send Gur after me.”
Astarion clenches and unclenches his fists, his voice cracking just a bit.
“He’s sending me a message. Reminding me of his power.”
“How worried should we be?”
“Worried? Worried?!”
Astarion laughs a manic, panicked laugh.
“Do you have any idea what sort of power a true vampire possesses? He can turn into mist, summon legions of wolves to do his bidding, run wrongways along buildings, cast a fog over entire cities- he could walk into our camp tonight and kill us with his bare hands if he wanted.”
“Hm.”
Orochimaru scratches his chin, taking in the information.
“What do you propose we do then?”
“We- I mean- I don’t know. If we kill his lackeys he’ll just send more, so-”
He lets out a grunt of frustration.
“We just have to be vigilant. Keep our wits about us. And kill any monster hunters we come across.”
Orochimaru nods.
“Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours. I'll watch your back."
Astarion relaxes just a bit.
“What more could I ask for? Now, shall we see if our Gur friend has anything valuable on him?”
“Sounds like an excellent suggestion,” Orochimaru grins, already going through the man’s bag.
Nothing much besides some food and an extra coat, but it’s better than nothing. Astarion even finds a crossbow strapped to the man that he seems very eager to take.
"The others will be waiting for us. Let's head back."
"Good idea."
They leave the corpse for the vermin to find, before the others can wonder for too long about where they went.
"Let's hope this lady can help us with our problem. I don't really have the face for tentacles."
Orochimaru laughs to keep himself from panicking.